The Trouble With Love Is
by Taimat
Summary: <html><head></head>Psyche is Love. And though he adores his job, he's unhappy...because he wants to fall in love, himself.</html>
1. Chapter 1

**The Trouble With Love Is~**

_**Original Prompt: **__Since tomorrow is Valentine's Day (or even today in some countries?), I want Psyche to be Amor._

_So he basically spends his days with making people fall in love, naturally. But, even though he used to claim that seeing people happy and spreading love all over the world is the best thing that can ever happen to him, he's unhappy. Because he wants to fall in love himself._

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Psyche was _sure_ that he had screwed up somewhere.

In his opinion, he had the best job ever. He created love in the world.

Well, maybe that wasn't exactly right. He didn't really _create_ love so much as he…inspired it. Rushed the inevitable. Something like that. But still! He got to spend his days watching the beginnings of new love. And not one to let go of his work so soon, he continued to watch love bloom, watch it grow into a passionate blaze, ease down into an easy companionship that would withstand the ages. He was surrounded by the best thing the world had to offer, and yet…

…why did his job have to be so _difficult?_

The problem was that, these days, people didn't want to just "fall in love." Or, well, they _did_, but it had to be on their terms. They couldn't just take the gift of love for what it was worth and go with it. And while Psyche could kindle that love, he couldn't make anyone richer, or kinder, or higher in status, or-

Another vending machine sailed across the intersection, accompanied by the usual yelling and jeering and-

"IIIIZAAAAYAAAAA!"

-and that.

Psyche pressed his forehead to his knees and curled up on his bench, unwilling to watch his greatest folly parade in front of him. Again.

He could make them fall in love, but he couldn't take away their denial. And such strong emotions needed some sort of outlet. It was just his luck that it had morphed into…this. It looked like love wasn't enough, anymore.

He was _sure_ it would change eventually. Maybe his timing had simply been too early. They really _did_ love each other, and if they would stop trying to kill each other long enough to think about-

There was another crash, and Psyche jerked, sniffling. This wouldn't do! He was Love! He had to get out of this emotional funk and go do things with his life! Determined, Psyche stood and set off to make the world a little bit better. And if his bow dragged behind him just a tad, well…he ignored it.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

His hands were steady. They always were. If she would just stop _bouncing_ so much!

He let the arrow fly, and it sailed straight into her heart, evaporating in the blink of an eye and leaving only love behind. It would cause quite a commotion if the arrows _didn't_ vanish, he supposed. Psyche was pretty sure that love would be the last thing on his targets' minds, if that were the case.

With a happy little smile, he settled down to his favorite thing: people watching. People-in-love watching. And this afternoon, he'd been a little predictable and decided to hit the high school couple-to-be on the roof during lunch. But the familiarity and the innocence of it eased his heart, and he tried to let go of the scene in Ikebukuro this morning.

Teenagers' voices wove through his headphones, and he was careful to pick out those of most interest - the ones belonging to that couple down on the roof. It wasn't really their physical voices he heard. It was that of their hearts. Their inner monologues, perhaps. And while his headphones could pick up those within a certain range, they couldn't focus on a single voice - he fiddled with the buttons, making adjustments - because it was a project in development, after all.

Psyche heard her argue with herself, coo over his gentle personality, fawn over his good looks.

Psyche heard his disbelief, the fluttering in his heart that he tried to suppress, the shy acceptance hastily patched over by outward bravado.

It was adorable, completely unsurprising, and exactly what he needed.

So, then…why did his heart still twinge? Just that little bit?

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Psyche giggled from behind the the takoyaki vendor (who was currently giving him some very strange looks, but that was okay). He'd shot and run this time, hurrying to get a better vantage point from which to watch, and he peered carefully out from behind the vendor's cart.

Oh, he got _major_ style points for this one. The couple was in front of a fountain, and aside from adding to the ambiance, the water paired with a gentle breeze sent droplets flying to scatter upon their skin, giving them a lovely, dewy glow in the early morning sun.

Psyche sighed. This really was the best job ever.

Psyche watched her giggle and cover her mouth as the boy fumbled through his words, her eyes alight with a joy that he could see even at this distance.

He was busy adjusting his headphones, trying to find their voices over that of the takoyaki vendor (because really, this jacket was _adorable_ and certainly not effeminate or impractical in the slightest!), and so he didn't notice the couple approach the cart until it was too late.

He stared up with wide eyes, trying to seem as unsuspicious as possible - considering that he was crouched in hiding and wearing a white, fluffy coat in the middle of spring - but he needn't have worried. They were so in love at the moment that he probably could have sprinted around naked and they would not have spared him a glance. He laughed a little to himself at the image, trying to take the edge off the newfound ache that seemed to have developed in his heart.

He was happy for them. He really was. He was Love. He _loved_ love and humans and sparking love between humans.

So why did this - why did _they_ - make him sad, somehow?

Distressed, Psyche's eyes began to tear up. What did this mean? Was he forgetting how to love? Was he no longer good at this job? He bit his lip when it quivered, watching the new couple wander off in their bliss, and as soon as they had moved far enough away, Psyche broke into quiet sobs. What was _wrong_ with him?

He felt a light tap on his shoulder and looked up through his tears to find the street vendor extending a small stick of takoyaki. Psyche took it with a trembling hand, noting the vendor's kind eyes despite the general confusion lacing through his headphones.

Psyche wasn't particularly hungry but...they were a _gift_. He gave a shaky thank you and popped one into his mouth.

He burst into tears at how good it was, hoping that the residual heat would warm his heart, too.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Mere days later found Psyche perched on the roof of Orihara Izaya's apartment, listening intently. Izaya was desperately trying to focus on his work, Psyche knew, but he kept hearing strains of other thoughts as they broke through Izaya's concentration. He could feel the love that was present, but it was buried deeply by pain, fear, confusion… There was actually no hate there, or else Psyche didn't think his arrows would have worked at all - he wouldn't put it past Izaya to defeat even Love's arrows - but Izaya was so _angry_. Angry at Shizuo, angry at himself, but worst of all, he was angry at Love. Angry at Love who had thought fit to bring him together with someone he-

_"…so clearly hate…"_

Psyche cuddled into the soft lining of his jacket, willing the harsh words away but refusing to leave. He wanted to help, somehow, but he didn't know what else he could do.

_"…worthless target, stooping so low…never allow myself…"_

He felt so lost. And alone. His heart…his heart _hurt_. And he didn't know what to do about that, either.

He had tried throwing himself more completely into his work, but every couple left him feeling even more empty than the last. And so he visited his past targets, checking in to see how they were doing, but that was even worse. Their love was old, strong, solid. Psyche had predicted that surely that would make him feel better, but he was in desperate tears after the third attempt. So he thought that maybe he should try to help along the relationships mired in reluctance and denial, and Izaya and Shizuo were on the top of his list.

Which left him here. Alone on a rooftop, skin damp from crying. How could he fix others when he couldn't even fix himself?

He slowly made his way down, lost in thought. Magenta eyes clouded over, and he wiped at them in frustration. He needed to think. He needed a quiet place. Someplace calm and beautiful. He allowed his thoughts to drift further, jumbled mess that they were, and he trusted his feet to get him where he needed to go.

Concrete gave way to grass, and the sounds of traffic became muted by a barrier of trees. Straying from the winding pavement, Psyche shuffled tiredly through the park, avoiding curious glances, wandering until he was stopped in his tracks by something that smelled almost…sweet. He blinked in confusion, trying to figure out where exactly he had ended up.

An old tree stood proudly in front of him, its branches heavy with greenery. He had quite nearly walked straight into it. Soft grass extended out from every side, sprinkled with delicate flowers, their soft petals swaying with the slightest movement of air. For whatever reason, the area was devoid of other visitors, and Psyche collapsed gratefully against the side of the tree.

Closing his eyes, he found that sunlight filtered through the leaves above, dappling the darkness behind his lids with flecks of grey, and while he was shaded by the tree's branches, he wasn't cold in the slightest.

It was a perfect place to think.

Except that, the more he thought, the more frustrated and saddened he became. Voices continued to float through his headphones, though he couldn't see to whom they belonged: their hopes and wants, how much they yearned for love, how much they needed it.

Shaking, he brought the little pink and white device up and glared at it. What about what _he_ wanted? What about what _he_ needed? He spent every waking minute working to give everyone else the gift of love, but why was there so little left over for himself? With a small whimper, he tore the headphone jack free and was cast into silence. He curled against the trunk of the tree, crying freely, and by complete coincidence, the same hand that had disconnected him from the world came up to press that small piece of metal against the bark.

Psyche thought his aching heart might stop when he heard…humming?


	2. Chapter 2

**The Trouble With Love Is~ [2/?]**

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The tree was…humming? Psyche drew away in confusion, blinking back and forth from the end of his headphone cord to the tree. How was this possible? He had never heard a tree before.

But then, he had never really _tried_ to hear a tree before.

Deciding that it was unfair to ignore this tree just because it was the first tree he had ever heard, Psyche eased closer again, this time pressing the metal pin more firmly against the bark, trying to wedge it into a crack.

"Can you…hear me, too?" Psyche's voice was soft and tentative, as he felt a little silly just talking to himself in the park, and he held his breath when the humming stopped.

_"…hear?"_

Psyche laughed in complete delight. "Yes! Yes, I hear you! This is wonderful! This is so exciting! I've never heard a tree before! You're the first! My name is Psyche! Do you talk to people often?"

A soft chuckle wound its way into his ears, sounding a little far away, like it was traveling through a long log. It was gentle and calming, slow and unhurried, which Psyche supposed made sense. After all, what reason would a tree have to be rushed?

_"Psyche… Not often…"_

He could feel the amusement in the voice, and while he marveled that this was happening in the first place, he was also surprised at how very clear this voice was. It did not carry with it the hum of surrounding thoughts that he was used to. It was simply him…and this tree.

_"So, Psyche… Why were you crying?"_

"You can see me!" This surprised Psyche even more than coming to find that trees had thoughts. He poked at the tree trunk, as if expecting an eye to blink back at him.

He was rewarded with laughter. _"Just because I have no eyes does not mean I cannot see… I have no head, yet you can hear me."_

"Yes, well…I guess that makes sense." Not entirely convinced, Psyche fidgeted.

_"Will you tell me why?"_

"Why-oh!" Psyche looked down, not wanting the tree to see his blush, then blushing more for even thinking that. This was so unbelievable. But then, if someone - something? - was willing to listen to him, Psyche thought it would be silly to throw the opportunity away. Even if he was talking to a tree.

At least it was a nice tree.

…were there not-nice trees?

A breeze caused the tree's leaves to rustle, and Psyche shook his head to clear it, trying to answer the question.

"Um, I suppose it's about my job. I'm Love, you see. I…make people fall in love." Psyche paused, but when the tree did not respond, he took it as a sign to continue. Most people would have been surprised, but Psyche had no idea what would surprise a tree. "I used to think that it was the best thing in the world. I mean, it _is_ the best thing in the world. Love is. But I'm not as happy about it as I used to be. Not about love! I didn't mean that! I'm not as happy about doing my job as I used to be. I'm happy for them! I really am! But…it hurts, too. And I don't know why. I'm surrounded by love. All the time. So why…why does it hurt so much?"

The tree hummed again, and Psyche wondered if that was maybe the noise trees made when they thought. It was a moment before the tree replied, _"When does it hurt the most?"_

"When…" Psyche reflected, trying to pinpoint… "When I see them together. When I see how happy they are. And that's why I'm so worried! Because making them happy together is what I'm supposed to do! Am I so terrible that I don't want them to be happy?" Psyche's voice rose in pitch, and his fingers dug into the tree bark, seeking a comfort that he so desperately craved. "What's wrong with me?"

_"Is it possible…that being surrounded by love is not enough to make you happy?"_

Psyche was left gaping. The tree had confirmed his worst fears! If Psyche needed something more than love, then…then what did he need! Fresh tears filled his eyes, and just as they began to drip, the tree hummed again.

_"Maybe what you're looking for isn't to create love between other people, but to have it for yourself. Maybe you want someone to love you back."_

"To love… Someone to love me back?" The thought had not occurred to Psyche before. He was so busy with the love affairs of others he hadn't thought about finding love for himself.

What would that be like? To have someone look at him that way, like he was all they needed in the world. To have someone to comfort him, to hold him… To sit with him in the park. To think up ways to get Izaya and Shizuo together. To…to buy him takoyaki from that nice street vendor! And to have sugary coffee with in the early morning! And to hold hands with as they walked down the street!

Psyche's eyes widened at the possibilities, and he felt his heart swell with joy.

But then, "How do I find someone to love me back?"

_"You're Love, aren't you? You should know by now."_ The tree was not condescending. It felt more like a gentle prod than anything else, and Psyche nodded, determined.

"You're right! I'm just like anyone else, Tree-san!" The tree chuckled warmly at that, and Psyche grinned. "Thank you! You've been so helpful! I, um, I don't know how to repay you." He had no idea what a tree might like in return, and he flushed a little in embarrassment.

_"Find someone who can make you happy. And let me know how it goes, dear Psyche."_

"I can come talk to you again?"

_"Of course. Please come back to talk to me whenever you have the need. I will be here."_

Psyche thought that was a little obvious, as it was unlikely that the tree would be anywhere else, but he very much appreciated the thought. It was wonderful to have someone to talk to, even if that someone was a tree!

"I will do that. Thank you for your kindness." The tree hummed back at him in what Psyche assumed was contentment, and he rose and bowed slightly before freeing his headphones.

The world seemed more lonely, now. But he pressed a hand to the trunk in front of him, and, assured that the tree would indeed be here in the future, Psyche plugged his headphones in properly and set off to create love - a little differently, this time.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Psyche was still trying to figure it out when he reached his apartment.

He couldn't just shoot another person, because that would only cause them to fall in love with the person for whom they were intended. And he wasn't about to go randomly shooting. These were delicate matters! They needed planning!

As he stared down from the large glass window, watching people rush about on the streets below, it occurred to him-

"I can shoot myself!" Yes, it wasn't perfect, since he would still need to find his beloved, but surely it would be a step in the right direction! He would be in love, and he would trust his heart to guide him. That was what other humans did, right? Those that didn't need his prodding to find their love?

Determined, Psyche stared hard at his bow and arrows. Now…what was the best way of doing this?

He definitely didn't have the reach to simply hold the bow backwards and shoot himself. His arms were nowhere near long enough to stretch the string enough. He'd tried and succeeded only in dropping an arrow on his foot.

Then he thought that maybe he could use his foot to press the string back…but no. When he was standing, he couldn't get his leg out of the way fast enough and simply got tangled and fell over, and when he'd tried it lying on his side, well…it hurt. A lot.

Glaring at his bow from the other end of the couch, Psyche decided that he wouldn't use the thing after all. Maybe he could just fall on an arrow, instead.

He tried propping one up between the sofa cushions - that got him only a face full of upholstery when his head hit the back of the couch before the rest of him did. Changing directions and launching himself over the back didn't help, either, though he did tumble beautifully headfirst into the floor. He tried it sideways once, but he came terrifyingly close to stabbing himself in the eye, and he wasn't completely sure what happened if you got shot in the eye with a disappearing love arrow. What if he had to go to the hospital? Who would believe him?

Nearly out of ideas, he propped his entire quiver on its end and tried to jump onto it, but he just couldn't get perpendicular enough or fall with enough force to do anything but knock the quiver over. Repeatedly.

As he lay there, sprawled across arrows that scattered out in front of him in all directions, he wondered if maybe he could just stab himself with an arrow. Even if that wouldn't make him fall in love, maybe it would do _something_.

He slept on the floor that night, arrows clutched tightly in one hand, wishing for the first time that there were more than one Love in the world.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-


	3. Chapter 3

**The Trouble With Love Is~ [3/?]**

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Psyche wanted to go back to the tree, but he was sure he'd end up complaining about how he had failed to shoot himself into love. He hoped he could return when he had accomplished _something_ so that he would feel a little better about himself…

Instead, he spent the day bouncing from rooftop to rooftop, only half-listening to the voices in his headphones. It wasn't like he was going to hear anyone saying they desired _him_. If he couldn't make himself fall in love, then he would roam the city searching, instead. Like normal people did. He just hoped that the person he loved was _in_ the city. What if he needed to travel outside of Tokyo? Outside of Japan?

With a soft huff, he came to a stop as the sun began to set, his bow draped across his lap where he sat on the cold concrete. He watched the sky grow dark and the lights of the city come on. Resting an arm on the ledge, he looked down at the street below. He wasn't very high up. Only four stories. Nuzzling his face into the fur lining of his hood, he watched people rush about below.

For a moment, he caught a flash of white, and his heart jumped. Afraid to blink, he scanned the street avidly, trying to find it again.

There was a man in a white suit down there, and Psyche's heart fluttered as his eyes danced over the slim form, the shock of messy blond hair. There was something…something about him. Entranced, Psyche watched with rapt attention as the man strode purposely into…oh. _Oh_. He had _that_ kind of job.

Psyche didn't mind, actually, but he didn't relish the thought of having to _pay_ to talk to this man in the first place. He really didn't want their first meeting to be a business exchange.

Ignoring the grumbling in his stomach, Psyche made up his mind to wait and see if the man would emerge soon. His hopes fell with every passing hour, but while the waiting only made him more anxious, he knew would much rather wait for hours until the club closed than head home earlier because the man had left _with_ someone.

His head was fuzzy, he was tired, and he couldn't say what it was that drew him to the man in the first place. But Psyche knew that he had to meet him.

Despite his determination, however, he fell asleep during his watch, curled alone on a rooftop, eyes closed until they were hit by the morning sun.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

The next day, Psyche threw himself into his work, trying to forget about his plans that night because they both excited and frightened him. Psyche totaled six couples by late afternoon, and he stuffed his hands in his pockets as he headed back to his apartment. But even though he couldn't see them, he could feel them tremble against the soft fabric. He left his bow and quiver in his living room and, feeling oddly vulnerable, set off down the street. He didn't want to be tempted to shoot the man out of habit. What if he only scared him off? He was careful to make sure that no one ever saw themselves be shot by Love's arrow. (And even worse…what if this man wasn't intended for Psyche at all and his efforts were wasted before they had really begun? Psyche chose not to think about that.)

Aware that his clothing made him stand out starkly against both the night and the people around him, Psyche gave up trying to be inconspicuous as he waited outside the door to the club. He brushed off hosts and hostesses alike with a smile, his nerves still twisting themselves up inside.

And when the man finally showed up, Psyche found his tongue to be immobile in his mouth. The first thing he thought was, "…Shizuo?" But it wasn't, though the likeness was uncanny.

His eyes were the same color of bright magenta as Psyche's own, which slightly unsettled him, but there was no denying that the man was _beautiful_. And he didn't have the same air of impending rage about him that Shizuo did, which made Psyche much relieved. (Not that Shizuo was really a factor in this, anyway. Psyche was well aware that Shizuo was absolutely not his love. But moving on…)

And when those eyes landed on Psyche, roving him up and down before settling on his face, his stomach flip-flopped awkwardly. This man's smile was…sensual, but almost predatory. With one last glance that left Psyche gaping, he turned his head and walked through the doors.

His nerves in shreds, Psyche shivered and left, completely unsure what was happening to him or what to do next.

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The park was even more abandoned at night, and Psyche leaned gratefully against his tree, resting his head against the trunk for a moment in an attempt to calm himself before wedging his headphone jack into the bark again.

The tree wasn't humming. Psyche was momentarily alarmed before it occurred to him that maybe the tree was sleeping.

"Hello…?" When he got no response, Psyche raised his voice a little. "Tree-san?"

There was something like a groan, and Psyche had only a second to feel really bad for apparently waking the tree up before it replied.

_"Psyche? Is that you?"_

"Yes. Yes, I…" Psyche trailed off as he realized he had no idea what to say next.

_"Are you all right?"_

"Y-yes, I think so. I…I think I might have found someone."

The tree paused. _"I see you took my advice. And quickly, at that! Does she make you happy?"_

"He, well…he is a _he_, and I don't know. I haven't talked to him, yet. I tried to make myself fall in love, but I couldn't, so I looked around, and he makes my stomach jump and my hands shake."

_"Now that sounds more like you're ill…"_

Psyche flushed at the tree's humor, thankful for the darkness. "No! No, I'm not. I…he…I don't know! There's _something_ about him, but I don't think I feel like my couples do. I'm not giddy and overjoyed and…I guess I wouldn't know for sure, but…it's…something. There's something. What do I do, now?" He finished stumbling over his words and listened to the tree hum in thought.

_"I think you'll need to get to know him in order to know if it's love."_

"That's why I'm here! I don't know what to do!"

_"How many couples have you seen in your lifetime? What do they do?"_

"They ask…to go places…and do things… But…but I can't! I can't-I-what do I say!"

The tree's laughter was warming and calming, and Psyche could feel his fingers relax from their near-frantic grip on his headphones. _"You must introduce yourself, first. Do you know where he frequents?"_

"He's a host. I know where…"

_"Then start there."_

"But I don't want to pay him to talk to me! And then how would I know if he really likes me or not?"

_"Mm, I see. Might you be able to catch him before or after work?"_

"I don't know. I don't know what I'm doing." Psyche's voice was soft, and he played idly with the trim on his sleeves. "I feel like I'm not very good at this."

_"Be confident, dear Psyche. It is worth it to try. It is worth it to try for your happiness."_

"I'm sure you're right." With a small smile, Psyche found himself closing his eyes. "I should go. I don't think I should spend another night outside."

_"Another?"_

"I fell asleep watching for him last night, waiting for him to leave work. Ah, now I sound like a stalker." Psyche blushed violently.

_"Do take care of yourself, Psyche."_ The tree's concern, though somewhat masked in amusement, only made his blush worse.

"I will. And thank you for listening to me again. I really… I like talking to you."

_"And I am glad to be here to listen. You will come back?"_

Psyche hoped it wasn't merely wishful thinking if the tree sounded eager to talk to him. "I will. And I will try my best with him!"

_"I hope you find your happiness. Sleep well tonight."_

Psyche felt a little lonely again when he left the park, but he was determined to meet with that man…even if he had to pay to do so. With a little more bounce in his step, Psyche made his way home.

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Despite what he had told Tree-san the previous night, the following evening found Psyche steeling himself to walk through the doors of the club. He had decided that it was really the easiest option, and maybe he would be able to get to know the man at least a little, this way. The host outside ushered him in with a warm smile, and before he had time to rethink his decision, Psyche asked for the blond man with the deep pink eyes.

It was still early, not long after the man had begun his shift, and Psyche hoped that he wasn't busy with another client just yet. He shifted restlessly, doing his best to relax and give a good first impression. The voices he heard through his headphones were a complete cacophony, and besides, he hadn't brought his bow and arrows. So he tried to ignore them, though the burning desire for love in this room nearly caused him physical pain.

"You asked for me?" The voice that came from behind him was low and smooth, and Psyche jumped in surprise.

He turned and was met with the same smile, the same heated eyes as before. "Yes." Psyche was half-certain he had whispered it.

"I'm Delic. Would you like to have a seat?"


End file.
